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Chapter 21
“... and Pele has apparently visited this Felix Rico, Mr. President. She appeared to one of the Park Rangers on Kilauea and passed on a message to us.” The wolf grinned as she read the report. “She said she talked to him, made him an offer, and gave him a warning. She would still prefer that we didn't kill him, but that we are free to act as we see fit should he attack us again.”
The President frowned. “That's ambiguous. What would you recommend?”
Lowe's ears went half-flat. “It would depend on exactly what he did to break the peace, sir. Unless it amounts to another WMD level assault, though, I'd try for a kidnapping rather than an assassination. If we can avoid killing him, I suspect Pele will be happier.”
Boehner nodded. “I was thinking the same way - she is not someone to carelessly annoy. So - how would you go about capturing someone like Pele, even a weak echo of her powers?”
“Three possibilities, I think. Fire-users, dragons or something like that, might be able to do it physically while being mostly immune to his attacks. Ice or water-users is the second possibility, attack his weaknesses, although the desert environment would work against us there. Third, try for something stealthy and use tech. A sniper with a trank gun, maybe. His locals are scared half to death; I talked to the farmer who – well, defected is the only word I can use. Anyone who protests gets to star in a recreation of the Aztec sacrifices, obsidian knives and all.”
“Pele wants to spare someone who'd do that? I thought better of her.”
“To be fair, sir, reading between the lines on what Felipe has told us in his debriefings, I'm not even sure Rico is aware of it. He seems to be... well, not a figurehead, he has too much power for that, but...” The wolf thought about it. “He's being controlled by the snake's priesthood. Remember Gulliver's Travels? The Laputans?”
“Ah... they're his flappers?”
“Exactly. They control his information access, and that lets them manipulate him into doing what they want. And they're the ones running the sacrifices, not him. He's not an innocent, but I have the impression that he doesn't know all of what is being done in his name.”
The President sat back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling of the Oval Office. “I'll think about it. We don't have to decide unless he tries something, but have someone put together teams based on all three of those ideas, in case we do need to do something about him. For now, he's Calderon's problem.” He leaned forward again. “What else is happening in the magical world?”
“A number of minor players have been turning up in Europe. Circe and Hecate in the Aegean, something resembling the Norse Fenrir has been reported in Ireland of all places, and at least three people all claiming to be the -real- Cagliostro. Russia's got someone who claims to be Rasputin, but Coyote assures me he's a fake. He also said that if Putin doesn't take him out, Chernobog will.”
“That sounds ... ominous. Chernobog?”
“Means Black God, literally. Better translated as Black Demon, or just the Devil. Another ancient Immortal, not particularly tolerant of upstarts, but not too energetic about it if they behave themselves. There are also rumors about Grandmother Witch being seen -- Baba Yaga -- but nothing solid.”
Boehner grunted. “No wonder the Russians are paranoid, if they've got that sort of legendary denizens. We need to get a list of all of these folks.”
Lowe nodded. “Agreed. We're working on it. Moving south, Wei Lung is consolidating his control of the erstwhile People's Republic and has invited Taiwan to rejoin the mainland. Taipei has been noncomittal so far. Domestically, he does seem to be very seriously attacking the pollution problem, shutting down the worst offending industries and devoting a lot of effort to cleaning up the existing damage.”
“Interesting. So he's actually telling the truth, do you think?”
“It appears so. He's eaten a couple more officials who assumed it was just a new boss with business-as-usual and kept taking bribes to ignore violations of his anti-pollution rules. The rest are taking it a good deal more seriously now.”
The President shuddered. “Well, China is badly in need of cleaning up. Maybe it'll keep him busy.”
“True, but there's also the problem of power. I think we should have the Ambassador approach him about Project Mirror.”
“That might be a very good idea. How's it going, by the way?”
“Coming along nicely. They're starting to make some sense of what they're finding, at least. They still have no idea what the equivalent of a generator will look like, though.”
“With a bit of luck, the dragon will know something useful. What else do you have for me?”
The wolf checked her notes. “Next, we have satellite surveillance of Haroun al-Ghul in the central Sahara. The governments there are powerless against him. Doesn't help them that he's turning the desert green again, with water refilling lake beds and rivers that have been dry for centuries, if not millennia. He doesn't have to conquer anything, the locals are deserting to him in droves. His sphere of influence covers much of southern Algeria and Libya, most of Chad and Niger - both of those governments have pretty much ceased to exist - and bits of western Mali and northeastern Sudan.”
“Is he dangerous?”
The wolf frowned, ears flat. “We don't know. Right now, he doesn't have to exert himself to gain followers, and the change in climate is greatly improving the local standard of living. On the other hand... Stardancer is sure that he's one of the people who tried to attack the Pentagon the night we set up the wards.”
The President nodded. “So mark him as a possible enemy, and keep an eye on him.”
“Exactly. And last but not least, the Kraken. The Russians haven't admitted anything about the submarine that was attacked, but judging by shipping losses, he's still sitting in the Atlantic approaches to Gibraltar.”
“Which means that they didn't take him out. I suppose it's good that that Alfa got away, at least. They might know something about him - can we get them to share it?”
Lowe chuckled. “Only if we trade information for it, and then only maybe. Soviet or not, the Russians are a paranoid bunch. The problem is that although we can avoid using that area for the most part – at the cost of diverting traffic from the Med to North America around Africa using the Suez Canal – that would most likely just make him change his hunting grounds. It's useful to know where he is, but we need to take him out soon. If we lose the machines while he's still around, it'll be a major problem. Cerrunos says that he's the last wizard-priest of Uskaraj, a rather unpleasant bunch from five or six cycles back. We already know Pele's opinion of him.”
The President nodded. “Very well. I'll ask the Navy to prepare some contingency plans, based on what happened when he attacked USS Cole.”
“That should work. I assume you saw the latest from CDC? It looks like some of the altered pregnancies are shorter term than normal for humans.”
“Yes. I'm going to give a speech next week. I've got the writers working on it already, and I'll want to bounce it off you and the CDC folks before we finalize it.”
Lowe nodded. “Just don't wait too long, sir.”
President Boehner nodded to the cameras as he strode to the podium, his face calm but serious. He was accompanied by three other humans and a Changeling wolf who sat down in the row of chairs behind him. “My fellow Americans. It has been nearly seven months since the world changed. I have tried to keep you up to date on what has been happening as our researchers have discovered it, and tonight I have more news for all of you. The change is not yet complete, and will not be for years to come. I will be reviewing the high points of our most recent discoveries tonight, and then I will ask four of my advisors to go into more detail for those who need the information.” He turned to introduce the group waiting behind him. “Dr. John Besser of the CDC; Dr. Morris Carpenter, the Presidential Science Advisor; Ms. Stardancer, head of the Arcane Research Division at CIA and the Presidential Paranormal Advisor; and Dr. Janet Lowe, Director of the National Security Agency.”
He turned back to the cameras. “Many of our fellow citizens have been changed themselves, into animal forms, or into creatures out of myth and legend. The doctors at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have been working on explaining what they can of this phenomenon, and have some preliminary results, which Dr. Besser will be sharing with us tonight. Of immediate importance is the discovery that the transformational changes are not quite complete. The Human Genome Project of the 1990's was unable to determine what much of the genetic information in our cells was for – but it seems evident now that some of it is only active during the periods of time when the laws of nature are ruled by magic rather than electricity. Humanity is more varied than we thought, and the next generation will show us that. Our children and grandchildren will not all be what we are used to thinking of as human. Some will be like Dr. Lowe -” He turned and nodded to the wolf. “Some will be even more greatly transformed. And some will be only slightly different. Dr. Besser has informed me that a small percentage of current pregnancies both here and abroad are Transformed, even though the parents were not. Most of these will not be the extreme transformations, but will resemble the legendary near-humans; elves, dwarves, trolls, and such. The human race as we think of it has more variation than we knew, and I expect all Americans to accept our Transformed children as we have learned to accept all races and creeds. Do not be alarmed by them, do not be afraid of them. Accept them, and treat them as you would any child.”
“Our researchers tell me that the Change will eventually affect electricity and other processes, sometime over the next few decades. Before that happens, we will need to convert our technology to run under the new laws of physics. Dr. Carpenter assures me that while some of the rules of science will change, science itself is the process of finding out how the universe works, so we should be able to cope. I have ordered a research project to work out how we can do so most easily. It may become expensive, and it will probably take longer than my administration will last, so I will be asking for a full, truly bipartisan, commitment to Project Mirror. We now depend on electricity for many things, and we will need to convert our infrastructure within twenty years to be safe. Failure is not an option. We -can- do this, we -must- do this, and we -will- succeed!”
“Of course, the entire world will be affected by this change, not just the United States. We have no intention of attempting to take advantage of a situation which could result in hundreds of millions of deaths. We welcome the participation of all governments in this project, and we are willing to share our results with every nation who assists to the best of their abilities. We also ask for the cooperation of those people who have lived through the cycle before – anyone with any knowledge of how to run a power station on magic rather than electricity will be welcome to assist the project, and will be well rewarded...”
20 August 2013, North Atlantic Ocean, near 36 North, 12 West
Admiral Tollant sat in his CIC, watching the plots as the battle group approached the Straits of Gibraltar. Two Los Angeles-class submarines ghosted through the water below the surface ships, and the ASW helicopters flitted here and there through the skies, searching for the thing that had wrecked the USS Cole months earlier. According to the reports he'd seen, the Kraken had been taking a ship about once a week since it had arrived here in mid-April. Its attempt to sink the VLCC Aegean Dolphin had failed, but the supertanker had been badly damaged – her captain was of the opinion that it was only the oil gushing out of the hull breach that had chased the thing off. <Of course, the idea of using oil as a weapon against it didn't sit well with the ecology nuts. At least the President didn't listen to them when they demanded a promise not to use nukes again.>
Captain Jenkins was back with his battle group, transferred from the still-drydocked Cole to command of the USS Normandy. He'd gotten a personal briefing from the man when he returned from Washington, and a full report on everything the new Paranormal Division of the NSA had been able to figure out about the thing. <We've got a battle plan, and it might even work. But first we have to find the thing.>
Commander Peterson had learned not to pace back when he was an ensign fresh out of sub school – there wasn't room for it on board a submarine, even an Ohio class. There certainly wasn't on the bridge of the USS Scranton. He would normally have been a little annoyed at being attached to a battle group - like most submarine commanders, he preferried to operate independently - but he'd seen the pictures of what happened to the Russian Alfa that had tangled with the Kraken. He had no desire to go up against that monster alone in a merely steel hull.
Chief Aguirre stuck his head out of the side room – barely a closet, really – that housed the sonar displays. “Sir? Something strange on the plot.”
Peterson turned to him. “Strange how, Chief?”
“Biological. And we haven't seen -anything- biological for the last sixty miles bigger than a shrimp.”
“Our target, you think?”
“Could be, Captain. If half of what we've heard about this thing are true, I can understand the whales and dolphins giving it a wide berth.”
Peterson followed the sonarman into his den. “So what are we looking at?”
“No sonar pings, it's not a whale. But I think we're picking up its heartbeats.” Aguirre pointed to a pair of low-frequency intermittent lines on the waterfall plot. “Not good enough resolution to target it, but if we can get a little closer and then ping it, we should be able to launch a pair of torpedoes before it can react.”
“Let's try to localize it first. Helm, come to zero-eight-zero and slow to five knots.”
The submarine crept quietly along, moving at right angles to the suspected location of their quarry while the passive sonars collected information. Peterson got himself a cup of coffee and waited patiently. The Los Angeles class were hunter-killer boats (never ships), and their officers learned to think like leopards. They hunted with stealth and ambush, silently stalking unsuspecting prey. More than one submarine officer had woken up as a big cat on New Year's Day. After a half hour Peterson walked back to stick his head into the sonar shack.
“How's the plot coming, Chief?”
Aguirre pointed to the computerized chart. “It's stealthy, but that heartbeat is unmistakable. We've got it located within a half-mile now.”
Peterson smiled. “And according to what I've been told, that's not too far off its real size.” He glanced at the depth gauge on the bulkhead in front of the planesman. “Take us up to transmission depth.”
The planesman, a young petty officer who'd been changed to a raccoon form by the Event, nodded. “Transmission depth, aye-aye.” He eased back on the control yoke and the deck tilted as the submarine began to rise through the water. After a few minutes, he nudged the controls forward again and the ship levelled off. “Transmission depth, Captain.”
Above them, the automated machinery in the sail unreeled a float carrying a radio antenna. Once it reached the surface, Scranton was once again in touch with the task group.
“Sir?” Tollant looked up as the petty officer handed him a message form. “Scranton thinks they've found it.”
The admiral took the message and read over it. “Good. Tell the squadron to go to General Quarters, and come to course one-two-zero. We've got a squid to kill.” He followed the messenger back to the communications section. “Is Scranton still on the line?”
Chief Baker nodded. “They're waiting for instructions, sir.”
Tollant took the microphone. “Scranton, Cinc Seven-one. What do you have, over?”
“Cinc Seven-one, Scranton. Object is stealthy, but we are detecting a low-frequency pattern that we believe is a heartbeat. Grid location Golf Seven, Juliet Three, plus-minus two. Depth uncertain but it may be lying on the bottom. Over.”
“Scranton, Cinc Seven-one. We're on our way to your position. Go back down and watch it, let us know if it moves. Otherwise, engage as soon as we're in position to back you up. Over.”
“Cinc Seven-one, Scranton. Engage when you arrive, roger. We'll duck back under the thermocline and keep our eyes peeled. Over.”
“Scranton, Cinc Seven-one. Good luck. Out.”
Peterson picked up the 1MC handset. “All hands, this is the captain. Go to General Quarters. This is not a drill.” He put it down again. “Reel the antenna back in. We're going back down to keep an eye on the thing until the fleet gets here. Just in case we need them.”
All over the submarine, off duty crew rousted out of their bunks and reported to their battle stations. Torpedoes were prepped and loaded into the tubes. Damage control parties broke out their emergency gear, ready to start repairs if anything happened to their boat. Loose objects were secured, and the galley shut down for the duration.
The last stations reported ready just as the antenna buoy was secured. Peterson turned back to the helmsmen. “Take us down to one thousand feet. We want to clear the thermocline. Course zero-nine-five.” The planesman and the steersman acknowledged the orders and the boat began to tilt downward.
“... and Pele has apparently visited this Felix Rico, Mr. President. She appeared to one of the Park Rangers on Kilauea and passed on a message to us.” The wolf grinned as she read the report. “She said she talked to him, made him an offer, and gave him a warning. She would still prefer that we didn't kill him, but that we are free to act as we see fit should he attack us again.”
The President frowned. “That's ambiguous. What would you recommend?”
Lowe's ears went half-flat. “It would depend on exactly what he did to break the peace, sir. Unless it amounts to another WMD level assault, though, I'd try for a kidnapping rather than an assassination. If we can avoid killing him, I suspect Pele will be happier.”
Boehner nodded. “I was thinking the same way - she is not someone to carelessly annoy. So - how would you go about capturing someone like Pele, even a weak echo of her powers?”
“Three possibilities, I think. Fire-users, dragons or something like that, might be able to do it physically while being mostly immune to his attacks. Ice or water-users is the second possibility, attack his weaknesses, although the desert environment would work against us there. Third, try for something stealthy and use tech. A sniper with a trank gun, maybe. His locals are scared half to death; I talked to the farmer who – well, defected is the only word I can use. Anyone who protests gets to star in a recreation of the Aztec sacrifices, obsidian knives and all.”
“Pele wants to spare someone who'd do that? I thought better of her.”
“To be fair, sir, reading between the lines on what Felipe has told us in his debriefings, I'm not even sure Rico is aware of it. He seems to be... well, not a figurehead, he has too much power for that, but...” The wolf thought about it. “He's being controlled by the snake's priesthood. Remember Gulliver's Travels? The Laputans?”
“Ah... they're his flappers?”
“Exactly. They control his information access, and that lets them manipulate him into doing what they want. And they're the ones running the sacrifices, not him. He's not an innocent, but I have the impression that he doesn't know all of what is being done in his name.”
The President sat back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling of the Oval Office. “I'll think about it. We don't have to decide unless he tries something, but have someone put together teams based on all three of those ideas, in case we do need to do something about him. For now, he's Calderon's problem.” He leaned forward again. “What else is happening in the magical world?”
“A number of minor players have been turning up in Europe. Circe and Hecate in the Aegean, something resembling the Norse Fenrir has been reported in Ireland of all places, and at least three people all claiming to be the -real- Cagliostro. Russia's got someone who claims to be Rasputin, but Coyote assures me he's a fake. He also said that if Putin doesn't take him out, Chernobog will.”
“That sounds ... ominous. Chernobog?”
“Means Black God, literally. Better translated as Black Demon, or just the Devil. Another ancient Immortal, not particularly tolerant of upstarts, but not too energetic about it if they behave themselves. There are also rumors about Grandmother Witch being seen -- Baba Yaga -- but nothing solid.”
Boehner grunted. “No wonder the Russians are paranoid, if they've got that sort of legendary denizens. We need to get a list of all of these folks.”
Lowe nodded. “Agreed. We're working on it. Moving south, Wei Lung is consolidating his control of the erstwhile People's Republic and has invited Taiwan to rejoin the mainland. Taipei has been noncomittal so far. Domestically, he does seem to be very seriously attacking the pollution problem, shutting down the worst offending industries and devoting a lot of effort to cleaning up the existing damage.”
“Interesting. So he's actually telling the truth, do you think?”
“It appears so. He's eaten a couple more officials who assumed it was just a new boss with business-as-usual and kept taking bribes to ignore violations of his anti-pollution rules. The rest are taking it a good deal more seriously now.”
The President shuddered. “Well, China is badly in need of cleaning up. Maybe it'll keep him busy.”
“True, but there's also the problem of power. I think we should have the Ambassador approach him about Project Mirror.”
“That might be a very good idea. How's it going, by the way?”
“Coming along nicely. They're starting to make some sense of what they're finding, at least. They still have no idea what the equivalent of a generator will look like, though.”
“With a bit of luck, the dragon will know something useful. What else do you have for me?”
The wolf checked her notes. “Next, we have satellite surveillance of Haroun al-Ghul in the central Sahara. The governments there are powerless against him. Doesn't help them that he's turning the desert green again, with water refilling lake beds and rivers that have been dry for centuries, if not millennia. He doesn't have to conquer anything, the locals are deserting to him in droves. His sphere of influence covers much of southern Algeria and Libya, most of Chad and Niger - both of those governments have pretty much ceased to exist - and bits of western Mali and northeastern Sudan.”
“Is he dangerous?”
The wolf frowned, ears flat. “We don't know. Right now, he doesn't have to exert himself to gain followers, and the change in climate is greatly improving the local standard of living. On the other hand... Stardancer is sure that he's one of the people who tried to attack the Pentagon the night we set up the wards.”
The President nodded. “So mark him as a possible enemy, and keep an eye on him.”
“Exactly. And last but not least, the Kraken. The Russians haven't admitted anything about the submarine that was attacked, but judging by shipping losses, he's still sitting in the Atlantic approaches to Gibraltar.”
“Which means that they didn't take him out. I suppose it's good that that Alfa got away, at least. They might know something about him - can we get them to share it?”
Lowe chuckled. “Only if we trade information for it, and then only maybe. Soviet or not, the Russians are a paranoid bunch. The problem is that although we can avoid using that area for the most part – at the cost of diverting traffic from the Med to North America around Africa using the Suez Canal – that would most likely just make him change his hunting grounds. It's useful to know where he is, but we need to take him out soon. If we lose the machines while he's still around, it'll be a major problem. Cerrunos says that he's the last wizard-priest of Uskaraj, a rather unpleasant bunch from five or six cycles back. We already know Pele's opinion of him.”
The President nodded. “Very well. I'll ask the Navy to prepare some contingency plans, based on what happened when he attacked USS Cole.”
“That should work. I assume you saw the latest from CDC? It looks like some of the altered pregnancies are shorter term than normal for humans.”
“Yes. I'm going to give a speech next week. I've got the writers working on it already, and I'll want to bounce it off you and the CDC folks before we finalize it.”
Lowe nodded. “Just don't wait too long, sir.”
President Boehner nodded to the cameras as he strode to the podium, his face calm but serious. He was accompanied by three other humans and a Changeling wolf who sat down in the row of chairs behind him. “My fellow Americans. It has been nearly seven months since the world changed. I have tried to keep you up to date on what has been happening as our researchers have discovered it, and tonight I have more news for all of you. The change is not yet complete, and will not be for years to come. I will be reviewing the high points of our most recent discoveries tonight, and then I will ask four of my advisors to go into more detail for those who need the information.” He turned to introduce the group waiting behind him. “Dr. John Besser of the CDC; Dr. Morris Carpenter, the Presidential Science Advisor; Ms. Stardancer, head of the Arcane Research Division at CIA and the Presidential Paranormal Advisor; and Dr. Janet Lowe, Director of the National Security Agency.”
He turned back to the cameras. “Many of our fellow citizens have been changed themselves, into animal forms, or into creatures out of myth and legend. The doctors at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have been working on explaining what they can of this phenomenon, and have some preliminary results, which Dr. Besser will be sharing with us tonight. Of immediate importance is the discovery that the transformational changes are not quite complete. The Human Genome Project of the 1990's was unable to determine what much of the genetic information in our cells was for – but it seems evident now that some of it is only active during the periods of time when the laws of nature are ruled by magic rather than electricity. Humanity is more varied than we thought, and the next generation will show us that. Our children and grandchildren will not all be what we are used to thinking of as human. Some will be like Dr. Lowe -” He turned and nodded to the wolf. “Some will be even more greatly transformed. And some will be only slightly different. Dr. Besser has informed me that a small percentage of current pregnancies both here and abroad are Transformed, even though the parents were not. Most of these will not be the extreme transformations, but will resemble the legendary near-humans; elves, dwarves, trolls, and such. The human race as we think of it has more variation than we knew, and I expect all Americans to accept our Transformed children as we have learned to accept all races and creeds. Do not be alarmed by them, do not be afraid of them. Accept them, and treat them as you would any child.”
“Our researchers tell me that the Change will eventually affect electricity and other processes, sometime over the next few decades. Before that happens, we will need to convert our technology to run under the new laws of physics. Dr. Carpenter assures me that while some of the rules of science will change, science itself is the process of finding out how the universe works, so we should be able to cope. I have ordered a research project to work out how we can do so most easily. It may become expensive, and it will probably take longer than my administration will last, so I will be asking for a full, truly bipartisan, commitment to Project Mirror. We now depend on electricity for many things, and we will need to convert our infrastructure within twenty years to be safe. Failure is not an option. We -can- do this, we -must- do this, and we -will- succeed!”
“Of course, the entire world will be affected by this change, not just the United States. We have no intention of attempting to take advantage of a situation which could result in hundreds of millions of deaths. We welcome the participation of all governments in this project, and we are willing to share our results with every nation who assists to the best of their abilities. We also ask for the cooperation of those people who have lived through the cycle before – anyone with any knowledge of how to run a power station on magic rather than electricity will be welcome to assist the project, and will be well rewarded...”
20 August 2013, North Atlantic Ocean, near 36 North, 12 West
Admiral Tollant sat in his CIC, watching the plots as the battle group approached the Straits of Gibraltar. Two Los Angeles-class submarines ghosted through the water below the surface ships, and the ASW helicopters flitted here and there through the skies, searching for the thing that had wrecked the USS Cole months earlier. According to the reports he'd seen, the Kraken had been taking a ship about once a week since it had arrived here in mid-April. Its attempt to sink the VLCC Aegean Dolphin had failed, but the supertanker had been badly damaged – her captain was of the opinion that it was only the oil gushing out of the hull breach that had chased the thing off. <Of course, the idea of using oil as a weapon against it didn't sit well with the ecology nuts. At least the President didn't listen to them when they demanded a promise not to use nukes again.>
Captain Jenkins was back with his battle group, transferred from the still-drydocked Cole to command of the USS Normandy. He'd gotten a personal briefing from the man when he returned from Washington, and a full report on everything the new Paranormal Division of the NSA had been able to figure out about the thing. <We've got a battle plan, and it might even work. But first we have to find the thing.>
Commander Peterson had learned not to pace back when he was an ensign fresh out of sub school – there wasn't room for it on board a submarine, even an Ohio class. There certainly wasn't on the bridge of the USS Scranton. He would normally have been a little annoyed at being attached to a battle group - like most submarine commanders, he preferried to operate independently - but he'd seen the pictures of what happened to the Russian Alfa that had tangled with the Kraken. He had no desire to go up against that monster alone in a merely steel hull.
Chief Aguirre stuck his head out of the side room – barely a closet, really – that housed the sonar displays. “Sir? Something strange on the plot.”
Peterson turned to him. “Strange how, Chief?”
“Biological. And we haven't seen -anything- biological for the last sixty miles bigger than a shrimp.”
“Our target, you think?”
“Could be, Captain. If half of what we've heard about this thing are true, I can understand the whales and dolphins giving it a wide berth.”
Peterson followed the sonarman into his den. “So what are we looking at?”
“No sonar pings, it's not a whale. But I think we're picking up its heartbeats.” Aguirre pointed to a pair of low-frequency intermittent lines on the waterfall plot. “Not good enough resolution to target it, but if we can get a little closer and then ping it, we should be able to launch a pair of torpedoes before it can react.”
“Let's try to localize it first. Helm, come to zero-eight-zero and slow to five knots.”
The submarine crept quietly along, moving at right angles to the suspected location of their quarry while the passive sonars collected information. Peterson got himself a cup of coffee and waited patiently. The Los Angeles class were hunter-killer boats (never ships), and their officers learned to think like leopards. They hunted with stealth and ambush, silently stalking unsuspecting prey. More than one submarine officer had woken up as a big cat on New Year's Day. After a half hour Peterson walked back to stick his head into the sonar shack.
“How's the plot coming, Chief?”
Aguirre pointed to the computerized chart. “It's stealthy, but that heartbeat is unmistakable. We've got it located within a half-mile now.”
Peterson smiled. “And according to what I've been told, that's not too far off its real size.” He glanced at the depth gauge on the bulkhead in front of the planesman. “Take us up to transmission depth.”
The planesman, a young petty officer who'd been changed to a raccoon form by the Event, nodded. “Transmission depth, aye-aye.” He eased back on the control yoke and the deck tilted as the submarine began to rise through the water. After a few minutes, he nudged the controls forward again and the ship levelled off. “Transmission depth, Captain.”
Above them, the automated machinery in the sail unreeled a float carrying a radio antenna. Once it reached the surface, Scranton was once again in touch with the task group.
“Sir?” Tollant looked up as the petty officer handed him a message form. “Scranton thinks they've found it.”
The admiral took the message and read over it. “Good. Tell the squadron to go to General Quarters, and come to course one-two-zero. We've got a squid to kill.” He followed the messenger back to the communications section. “Is Scranton still on the line?”
Chief Baker nodded. “They're waiting for instructions, sir.”
Tollant took the microphone. “Scranton, Cinc Seven-one. What do you have, over?”
“Cinc Seven-one, Scranton. Object is stealthy, but we are detecting a low-frequency pattern that we believe is a heartbeat. Grid location Golf Seven, Juliet Three, plus-minus two. Depth uncertain but it may be lying on the bottom. Over.”
“Scranton, Cinc Seven-one. We're on our way to your position. Go back down and watch it, let us know if it moves. Otherwise, engage as soon as we're in position to back you up. Over.”
“Cinc Seven-one, Scranton. Engage when you arrive, roger. We'll duck back under the thermocline and keep our eyes peeled. Over.”
“Scranton, Cinc Seven-one. Good luck. Out.”
Peterson picked up the 1MC handset. “All hands, this is the captain. Go to General Quarters. This is not a drill.” He put it down again. “Reel the antenna back in. We're going back down to keep an eye on the thing until the fleet gets here. Just in case we need them.”
All over the submarine, off duty crew rousted out of their bunks and reported to their battle stations. Torpedoes were prepped and loaded into the tubes. Damage control parties broke out their emergency gear, ready to start repairs if anything happened to their boat. Loose objects were secured, and the galley shut down for the duration.
The last stations reported ready just as the antenna buoy was secured. Peterson turned back to the helmsmen. “Take us down to one thousand feet. We want to clear the thermocline. Course zero-nine-five.” The planesman and the steersman acknowledged the orders and the boat began to tilt downward.
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You know, the Mexica priests were pretty good astronomers. I'll bet they knew the solar system was heliocentric and made up the whole "blood moves the sun" thing to keep control over the plebes.
And the Aztecs sacrificed so many because they had a lot of tributaries who had to be "kept in their place".
And the Aztecs sacrificed so many because they had a lot of tributaries who had to be "kept in their place".
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